There’s a spot in Plymouth’s city centre where I spend lots of time - in fact I was there earlier today. It’s a place where I can see into a shop and watch my ex fleet in and out of view while she’s working. Well, I say ex but we’re not officially divorced - she doesn’t know where I am and that, for the time being, is how I want it.
I do keep in contact with her: when I can I make the odd telephone call, that way she knows I’m OK and I know she’s OK and that the kids are OK, too.
You probably think that sounds a bit odd. I wouldn’t blame you. I know it’s not normal behaviour. I’m not in a normal place at the moment. When I am though, and I will be, I’ll approach her and we’ll talk face to face.
In case you're wondering, if she ever looks in my direction I’m safe, she wouldn’t recognise me, I barely recognise my own reflection. But I have to make sure I keep an eye on the time, I don’t want to attract undue attention from her or her workmates or those CCTV hawk eyes above me, behind me and to my side!
When I left that spot I was feeling pretty low so I trundled around the city centre to gather my thoughts. Thankfully, my feelings were lifted when I noticed that parts of the West End were being repaved following all the trippings over the last few months. At least somethings are going right...